


Thick as Thieves

by glorious_clio



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2020-12-16 13:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio
Summary: Marian and Robin take a trip to London for the Christmas season! Naturally, things do not go according to plan when there is a thief in the Tower. Set post- "A Year and a Day."Inspired by true events.





	1. The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> "London is a labyrinth, half of stone and half of flesh. It cannot be conceived in its entirety but can be experienced only as a wilderness of alleys and passages, courts and thoroughfares, in which even the most experienced citizen may lose the way; it is curious, too, that this labyrinth is in a continual state of change and expansion." ~Peter Ackroyd

"I promised you that we would go to London."

"What are you talking about?" She was combing the tangles and debris from today out of her hair. Marian and Robin had been assisting their villagers with bringing in the harvest. Both were exhausted. Katherine (a precocious nine year old) and Geoffrey (a daring eight and a half) were tucked into their beds, quick to sleep after long days of fetching and carrying for those in the fields.

"London. I was thinking perhaps we could go celebrate Christmas in there. Much heard that King John is having his Christmas Court at the Tower. Would you be interested in going?"

She settled her comb on the dressing table and turned around to face him. Robin peeled off all his clothes and rinsed some of the dirt off him (they would be in the fields all week; it did not make sense to bathe tonight).

"I… yes?"

"It will be fun, Marian, I promise!" his eyes shone with mischief as he planned.

"Oh?" She stood up and took off her own clothes, laying them over the low stool she had vacated.

"Yes. You and me, in a rather dangerous city. We will fit right in!"

Marian laughed and jumped into bed. He snuggled up to her.

"Tell me about London," she smiled and rested her head on his chest to hear the steady rhythm of his heart. She liked hearing of his travels. Even though she had heard about London countless times before, she could tell he wanted to talk about it.

"We can write ahead and ask for lodging at the Tower. It will be cramped there for Christmas but I am well remembered from my years as a squire and a knight. We shall go to Christmas Mass at St Paul's. Every Friday at Smith's Field, there is a horse sale, we shall go there so you can see the best new horses. And outside the walls are beautiful vineyards, although I guess it will be under a layer of snow, so never mind…."

She fell asleep to the rhythm his ramblings.

* * *

Over the course of the next few weeks, she was far too busy to listen to his plans. He was busy too, but apparently not too busy to scheme for Christmas.

She was excited in a distracted way, and sometimes worried about leaving her children in Nottingham to celebrate the holidays by themselves. Not by themselves, exactly, as Much welcomed everyone in Nottingham castle, and they did still have Hilde, the children's nurse, whom Katherine and Geoffrey still minded. If Katherine and Geoffrey were upset at their parents for leaving, they certainly did not show it. In fact, they gave her a litany of articles they wanted from London.

Long ago, when they were first handfasted, Robin had promised to go traveling with Marian. Of course with them, nothing ever went according to plan. They thought they would not have children, and instead they had two: the adopted Katherine and the surprise that was Geoffrey. In addition to their children, Robin and Marian were kept quite busy with their lands and estates, and assisting Much as best they could with his position as Sheriff of Nottingham. The result was, Marian had never been farther than Lincoln.

But since John Lackland had become King, and his nickname went from Lackland to Softsword, there were things to think about other than travel to foreign places with exotic sounding names. It had to be said that John was not a good King. This was not to say that (in Marian's opinion) Richard had been a good King, but at least Richard managed to pick battles he could  _ win _ . John had no such luck.

He had delusions of grandeur instead. After his nephew Arthur  _ mysteriously  _ died, John had inherited all of Richard the Lionheart's lands. Not having a son, he annulled his marriage to Isabel, Countess of Gloucester and instead married Isabella of Angouleme. (It must have been convenient to have their names so similar, lest John call out the wrong name in the marriage bed. Not that this was a subject for polite conversation.) Regardless, it was now 1203, John had managed, through poor relations with diplomacy, and through terrible battle stratagems, to lose every tract of land on the continent, withdrawing to England and turning his attention to a place that Kings had been largely absent (Richard had been content to use England as a treasure box, leaving the English to (mostly) their own devices). And still John had no son to carry on his  _ illustrious  _ name.

In 1200, John had visited Nottinghamshire; the tense visit was marked in the county's memory by the acts of the village of Gotham. They realized that their village was the most direct route that King John would be taking, and they were concerned that the little road through their village, upon becoming the King's Highway, would be subject to further tax. It certainly was a valid concern. So the entire village took it upon themselves to act stark-raving  _ mad _ .

King John (Softsword that he was) feared that the madness was a contagion, and went  _ around  _ Gotham instead of through it.

When John told of the events at a feast in Nottingham castle, wondering if all of the North was insane, Marian could hardly contain her laughter. In fact, she had to duck into a servants' passage to exorcise her giggles. When she came back, she could not meet anyone's eyes, and certainly not Robin's, for fear of laughing out again.

So the autumn passed; Marian and Robin were busy packing trunks and bags, making last minute arrangements, making sure the children had packed properly and taking them to Nottingham. It was almost a relief when they took to the road.

The relief wore off quickly as the miles passed.


	2. Casing the Joint

"Nearly there!" Robin crowed as they went through the City's walls. Marian could see the Tower. It was closer than she expected. They walked their three horses through the streets (two for riding, one for carrying the luggage), picking their way carefully through the crowds, Robin leading the way. Marian craned her neck, trying to take it all in at once: all the people, fishewives selling their wares, butchers covered in blood, filthy children running through the streets, the animals; pigs, cows, chickens, horses, the wooden, creaky houses, the cacophony of noise...

After an hour, the charm wore off. She was tired, cold, and saddle and foot sore, and not even a new city could distract her.

"Robin are we lost?"

"Of course not." He turned left again.

Marian was in no mood for his cheerful, happy-go-lucky ways. "We are lost, husband."

"Not  _ lost _ , exactly. And I am sorry, Marian, but London has  _ changed _ , since I have been here last!" he told her brightly, taking another left down another street.

"Hmmm, according to this, the Tower is this way, to the right," Marian said, reigning in her horse.

"According to what?"

"Sign-post. It is pointing _ this  _ way."

"Fine, we will go the boring way. But Marian, that is how you learn to traverse this city! Follow your instincts and get totally lost! You never know what you might find!" He turned his horse around and followed her grinning from ear to ear.

"That may be how  _ you _ travel, Robin of Locksley, but  _ I  _ want to wash the dust of the road off me. Which I will not get until we reach our destination."

"Spoilsport," he said mildly.

Following Marian's path, they reached the Tower in twenty minutes. It was a fortified castle, built by William the Conqueror, and constantly being added on to by his successors. Upon their arrival, stable hands and ostlers burst forth and took their horses, a seneschal, who introduced himself as Sir David took them to their rooms on the East wall; three young pages toted their belongings.

"Everything seems to be in order," Sir David said briskly. Tonight's feast starts at seven bells. Mass tomorrow morning is at eight. Is there anything we can get you from the kitchens? Perhaps some refreshment after your journey?"

"That would be nice," said Robin, remembering the tasty fare at the Tower.

"I would like hot water to wash with," Marian asked.

"Very good, Countess, my Lord Huntingdon. Apologies again for your having to share a room," he said bowing.

"Oh, she is trouble, but I am sure we will make do," Robin winked at Marian.

She grinned back. They had not slept apart when under the same roof since their marriage.

"Very well, my Lord, Lady," said Sir David, backing out of the room.

Marian pulled her feet from her boots and collapsed on the bed, pulling a blanket over her.

"Tired, my love?"

"What gave you that impression?"

He bounded in next to her.

"Boots, Locksley!"

He sighed, heaved himself up, and pulled them off. She covered both of them and took in the room. It was quite spacious, with a comfortable bed and curtains around to keep out the draughts. There was a wooden screen in front of the windows, further protection against drafts, and two chairs in front of the fire, which the pages had lit for them. There was also a small dressing table and mirror for Marian's use; the pages had tucked the trunks on either side of the table and arranged the bags on top. A heavy rug covered the floor, wall hangings hid the stone walls. Everything was a rich shade of red.

"Nice," Marian observed. She wiggled her toes under the blankets, warming and stretching them.

"Very," Robin agreed.

After a few more moments, a maid arrived with the hot water, settling it on the dressing table. Robin stood, thinking it not proper to remain abed while there was a maid in their chamber.

"My Lord, the food will be ready soon," the maid said. "My Lady, may I help you unpack? Only Sir David mentioned you did not have a lady's maid."

Marian had never had a lady's maid, the most she had was her childhood nurse. "No, thank you, what did you say your name was?"

"Rohese."

"Thank you, Rohese, but I dress myself."

Rohese curtsied neatly and left silently.

"Now people will talk," Robin teased.

"About the crazy northern woman who refuses a lady's maid? Surely London has better things to discuss," Marian said. She went to her trunk and began pulling things out and hanging them, hoping the wrinkles would fall out in time for dinner. She washed her face, hands, and feet, before combing out and arranging her dark, heavy hair.

"Do not put the veil on yet," Robin interrupted his own unpacking to beg.

"Very well," Marian agreed. "But you know I must wear it to the feast."

"I know. But for now, it should be loose. You know I like to see your hair."

She smiled, and took off her heavy traveling clothes - thick hose, trousers, loose tunic, and heavy cloak, before putting on a not-as-wrinkled dress. Then she turned to help him unpack.

Before long, they were ready to go down to the feast. Marian wore a long blue sweeping gown - not her best one, it was true, but nice enough, she thought. In fashion. Clean, and unwrinkled. She fastened a silver girdle around her waist, tucking a dinner knife inside the sheath, and a matching blue veil to cover her hair. As to jewelry, she did not have much; her gold wedding ring with the pretty green stone nestled in the band (not an emerald, but the same color as the ribbons she and Robin had worn at their handfasting), and a gold cross around her neck. She studied herself in the mirror. At thirty years old, she looked older, but still full of her old youthful vigour. Her dark hair was long enough to reach her hips (though right now it was tied up behind her). There were laugh lines on her face (which Robin told her emphasized her eyes), and old worry lines on her brow. Her skin looked pale now, but in the summer it would darken after all the time spent in the sun. She was curvier after bearing and nursing Geoffrey, but hard work (and occasional stints at the Nightwatchman) had kept her strong and in fighting trim.

Robin looked the same to her, at age thirty three. The only differences were that he showed the same laugh and worry lines that she did, and his hair was cropped closer than his outlaw days; but his blue tunic and tight trousers helped him cut the same swashbuckling figure he had when he came home a hero from the Crusades. And his cheeky little grins and winks never failed to make her laugh. He wore a beard in the winter now, not the scraggly thing from his outlawry, but a proper beard that tickled her face when she kissed him.

Marian looped her arm through his and he led her to the great hall in the White Tower for the feast.

The best thing about King John's court, Marian thought, looking around her, was the music. The Plantagenet's were famous for their love or troubadours. Marian had never heard music this beautiful before.

The worst part was that she could hardly hear it.

All around her, people were talking and laughing very loudly, clearly taking the music that played above them for granted. And the conversations were all malicious gossip - who was worst dressed this season, who was pregnant by whom, whether the Queen would be pregnant soon or whether the nickname "Softsword" was more apt than anyone was willing to admit.

Marian glanced up at the raised dais where the King and Queen were dining. If they heard the rumors, they paid them no mind.

The conversationalists around her asked them questions, and she and Robin gave short, polite answers. When one of them made a veiled insult at her dress being out of fashion, she just commented that it takes longer for fashions to spread north.

"But you have a body that looks good in peasant's clothes," one Lady Agnes almost complained. "I am so old and fat."

She was looking for compliments, Marian knew, but she did not know how to answer back. "Well, I am often in the fields, or riding, or hunting, the exercise keeps me like this." Marian hoped to sound positive and encouraging.

Lady Agnes scowled. "I suppose in the North, even Countesses are expected to dirty their hands in the fields."

Marian turned her eyes to her plate, trying not to blush. She shared a cup with Robin; the wine was sweet and heavy. Marian tried not to drink too much of it, but still her wits felt dull; every word she said seemed to be the wrong one. Even Robin could not keep up with the gossip. They had real things to talk about at home. And truly, she did not mind helping with the planting and the harvesting. Robin was only a minor baron, and she was a daughter of a knight. They did not do much work, only when it was needed. And it filled her with pride. She would not let these Londoners look down on her for that.

She would think of tomorrow; after Mass, Robin had promised to show her the City properly. And she would be out in the streets, not cooped up with these gossiping nobles.

She could not deny that the food was delicious. Apart from the music, it occupied most of her attention. She had never seen such exotic choices; pickled eels, smoked peacock, lampreys, fish she could not name, fresh fruits and vegetables (in winter!), spiced broths and creamy puddings, served on pewter plates or bowls.

After eating far too much, and the feast still carrying on, Marian signaled to Robin, and the two slipped out. Feasting could go on well into the early hours, only to be repeated the next day.

With their departure, their table burst into gossip about the couple.

* * *

While their nights were spent feasting (after the first night, Marian and Robin tried not to eat to excess, which they had varying degrees of success at), their days were spent exploring London.

As Robin had said, the best way to see the city was to get lost. But there was always some familiar landmark, so they were never truly lost, for they would turn a corner and find, say, St Paul's Cathedral (the heart of the City), or the Cathedral at Southwark, or even the Thames herself (the new stone London Bridge was nearly done). And once finding these, Robin and Marian would know how to get back to the Tower.

But there was much to explore - taverns and shops and the Smith Fields' horse sale. Marian and Robin carefully chose presents for their loved ones back in Nottingham. Robin insisted that Marian be fitted for a new dress. They saw street performers, and puppet shows acting out biblical stories outside of the Cathedrals. They watched ships being unloaded down at the docks - huge shipments of fish, wood, metals, anything and everything under the sun, all available to buy (for a price). They ate at public houses along the Thames, they went to Holborn to see the houses of the wealthy. And they braved the snow to see the vineyards (they were lovely, covered in glittering ice).

One morning, Marian refused to get out of bed to go explore.

"Why not?" Robin demanded.

"Because," she said, burrowing down into her warm blankets. "My new gown is finished, and I want to wear it tonight to the feast. And I want to stay for the dancing." Their exploring had left their limbs too exhausted for the dancing that went with the feasting. "It is only one day," she reasoned.

"Very well," said Robin, crawling back into bed. "We shall have to find another way to pass the time."

"What did you have in mind?" she asked, feigning innocence.

Robin kissed her, leaving no doubts in her mind as to what his intentions were. She matched him.

* * *

The dancing that night was fast and furious, and Marian only had eyes for her lover (and he only eyes for her, naturally). They were good dancers, both, for all that they did not know all the steps and often had to sit out, but she on his lap, sharing a goblet of wine, it was really sickening for others to watch. Others like the formidable Lady Agnes.

She was a petite woman, with curly yellow hair and brown eyes. She was a beautiful woman who knew it all too well, and being the lover to the King, she was haughty as could be.

Marian slid off, her destination, Agnes could not care where, and Robin of Locksley seemed content to swirl the contents of the goblet around, taking sips now and then. Agnes watched his Adam's Apple bob up and down.

_ She was going to enjoy this. _

He was an attractive man. She could not deny that. And his hands as they firmly grasped the goblet? Well, she would soon have them on her.

She approached him, playing with a long strand of well-matched pearls to draw attention to her neck, the plunging neckline in turn brought the eye to her breasts.

"Greetings, my Lord," she said in a low voice.

Robin's eyes, who had been cloudy, as if in a daydream, suddenly cleared as his gaze swept from her feet to her eyes, as if sizing her up.

"Lady Agnes, yes?"

"You look at me as if I might be a threat," she noticed.

"Are you?"

"Yes," she said, sitting next to him. Very close. She could feel the heat from his hip seep into hers. Robin scooted down the bench, putting more space between them. She followed him. "My Lord, I pray you, dance with me."

He swallowed uncomfortably, his Adam's Apple bobbing wildly. "I have promised all my dances to my  _ wife _ ," he said, as if the Lady Marian, or the ring on his finger, could have possibly escaped Agnes' notice.

"Your  _ wife _ is not here. Surely she would not deny you a bit of pleasure, which can come from  _ dancing _ . All married men do it." She took the goblet of wine away from him, denying him drink, but promising so much more. Agnes settled it on the table behind them.

His eyebrow slid up, "All?"

"Yes," she replied breathlessly, sliding closer again, to whisper in his ear. "And I am told that I am an excellent  _ dancer _ ."

Robin laughed and stood up. She nearly fell over, no longer having him to support her awkward angle.

"I only  _ dance  _ with my wife, Lady Agnes. She is not a jealous woman, but I am not a fickle man, and not easily convinced by your pearls and paints, when my own wife is much more honorable than you are."

Lady Agnes suddenly flushed. Robin left to find his honorable, perfect wife.

* * *

"You were propositioned by Lady Agnes? While I was visiting the privy?"

"That is what I am telling you." Robin was stretched out on the bed, still in his dancing clothes, sans boots. Marian was combing out her hair at the mirror.

"Odd. Her friend, Friar Hann cornered me on the way back to you. He is like conversing with a snake, constantly changing topics. It felt like he was trying to delay me, but I could not think why. We had hardly spoken before." Friar Hann was hardly worth mentioning, though Lady Agnes often was whispering things in his ear. He was nearly bald, and dressed richly for a Benedictine, even if he  _ was _ at the Royal Court.

"That  _ is  _ odd," Robin said absently.

Marian crawled into bed. "Why the sudden interest in us?" she asked Robin, brushing back his silky hair.

Robin shrugged. "I do not know. I am not very good at courtly intrigues."

"Best not to think about idle gossip," Marian said firmly, putting the matter to rest. "Where are you taking me tomorrow?"


	3. Trials and Tribulations I

The next night at their table, all their companions were abuzz with some rather strange news; Lady Agnes' friend Lady Johanne had lost a bracelet.

"It is very peculiar," Lady Johanne told Marian. “I left it on my bedside table, and this morning, it was gone.”

"Was it very valuable?" Lady Agnes asked.

"Only the most valuable thing I own. It was set with emeralds!" Lady Johanne cried.

"Have you checked between the bed and the table?" Marian asked.

Ladies Agnes and Johanne glared at Marian.

She shrugged. "What else could have happened to it?" Marian asked reasonably.

"It could have been stolen!" Lady Johanne exclaimed.

At this, Robin turned to the ladies' conversation. "What has been stolen?"

"Nothing," Marian said quickly.

"My emerald bracelet!" Lady Johanne shrieked.

An awkward silence fell around the hall as people turned to stare at the cluster. Lady Johanne was breathing very heavily, her face flushed. Slowly, conversation started up again, droning loudly at the turn of events. Lady Johanne fled.

"Do not act so innocent, Lady Marian," Lady Agnes hissed under her breath towards her.

"Excuse me?"

"Trying to cover for your husband's thieving ways. ' _ Have you checked between the bed and the table?', _ " she mimicked cruelly. "We all know your husband to be Robin Hood, robbing from us to give to the rabble, is that not so?"

"I do not know what you-" Marian started.

"Oh, we do not have evidence against you now, but if more things disappear, well, we know where to start our search, do we not?"

"Do not speak on subjects you have no knowledge," Marian told her, not caring to listen to abuse and slander. She marched away and left the feast.

Robin, who had only heard Marian's outburst, looked confused and followed her out. The noise of the crowd doubled.

It was as Lady Agnes prophesied. More things disappeared, and the more things disappeared, the more rumors there were about a thief in the Tower, a thief who had made his name taking what the rich had...

Marian could tell that Robin was worried. His laugh sounded forced. His smiles did not reach his eyes. He looked haggard and exhausted. Robin was not even content to wander around London and get lost. They went to the feasts as normal, though no one talked to them. And they stayed until dawn, to give themselves an alibi. Any exploring they did was... not aimless. It was straight there, and straight back, as if being at the Tower could somehow dispel the rumors.

Marian was worried too; she felt like her stomach was in her throat most of the time. Being with her husband on this trip was hardly the relaxing time she had hoped it would be. There was no sleep now. Yet she could not help but notice that everyone who had lost something, or claimed to lose something, was a friend of Lady Agnes.

Until one day, something of Lady Agnes' was stolen.

If Lady Johanne had thrown a fit, it was nothing compared to Lady Agnes' storming into the Hall,  _ screaming _ about the theft of her rope of well-matched pearls. A gift from the King in recognition of her loyalty.

At this, King John stood.

Someone slapped Lady Agnes and her theatrics turned into noisy sobs, but the entire Hall could now hear what John Softsword had to say.

"What is this, Lady Agnes?" he bellowed.

Marian felt a lump of fear settle in her throat. She took a sip of wine, choking it down. Robin took her hand and squeezed it, as if warning her to be ready.

She controlled her crying to say, "Robin, Earl of Huntingdon, has- has  _ stolen _ my pearls!"

John turned to the pair of them, anyone who stood near them took a step back, so they were now standing apart from the crowd. Almost lazily, he said, "Throw him in the Clink so he may stand trial."

They ran.

They were completely unarmed, unlike their pursuers, and used to running. Quickly, Robin pulled his wife around corners and up on the castle walls, and all around the Tower. John's men bumbled and clanked in their heavy armor behind them.

All the same, Marian had a pain in her side; they were both red-faced and choking down air when Robin discovered the main gate was still open. They made a break for it, crossing the moat, going around the Tower, through the Roman wall.

"What now?" Marian panted. The clanking behind them was quieter now, but they would stand out in the East End, the Jewish quarter.

"Back to the City," Robin said, breathlessly. "The best way is by ferry, but I do not have any money."

"I have," Marian started to say.

Needing no other prompting, he pulled her down to the docks, their hands slick with sweat. The swirling streets seemed to part for the two of them, hand in hand, and closed behind them, inhibiting King John's guards. Robin managed to negotiate a good price on a small boat and before long, they were lost in the mazes in Cheapside in the massive shadow of old St Paul's.

* * *

"Oh Robin," she said as she settled onto their straw bed. "You take me to all the best places." The Winder's Way Inn could not easily be described as "the best of places"; it was a rollicking and noisy tavern inn. The tavern itself was sticky and gritty. The loft above was a simple dormitory of beds, the eaves of the attic loft sloped down sharply, and only a large sheet strung on a length of twine gave them an illusion of privacy. Her toes peeped off the edge of the bed as she stretched.

He sat down next to her. "I am sorry about… this."

"Unless you  _ did _ steal all those things, I hardly think it your fault. Rather, someone is conspiring against us, my love."

He smiled grimly. "This is not the London I remember."

"The London you remember was Henry's London, and Richard's London. A new King changes the rules of the game," she said, patting the pillow next to her as an invitation.

He nodded and curled up next to her.

"I will think of something," Robin promised, too tired to go anywhere.

"We will think of something," she agreed.

It was late; they were exhausted from their flight. Marian and Robin fell asleep with their clothes on (which was fine, considering they did not have time to bring any clothes with them. All they had was the silver that Marian had in her purse, enough to last them a month in their current lodgings).

In the morning, Marian sold her fine dress in exchange for two rougher ones, a night shift, and a parchment and some ink, with a bit of money left over to pay a messenger. It may not have been good enough for the nobles at court, but it was still good quality, and it fetched a high price.

"What is the parchment for?" Robin asked, curious.

"I thought I would write to Much, and let him know what is happening. He will likely be called to testify on your character," Marian reasoned.

"It is a good thing we did not quarrel before we left," Robin joked.

They took turns writing the letter to Much, after Robin did not like Marian's formal salutation.

_ My Lord Sheriff, _

**Much,**

_ It would seem that the Earl of Huntingdon cannot forget his lawless ways, and is in danger of being made an outlaw, since he will not stand trial. _

**I resent the misrepresentation of facts, and would surely lose at trial, since no one here seems interested in the truth.**

_ It seems there is a thief in the Tower. _

**For some reason, people are quick to blame me. Marian and I had to flee for our lives.**

_ We now reside in an inn in the City. Not quite the accommodations I was expecting. We fear that we have been framed, that the thefts are not really thefts at all. _

**If you can think of something, or if you can come down to help clear my name...**

_ We have half a plan, but please keep this noise from the children - Katherine and Geoffrey do not need to know that their parents are in danger of being outlawed. _

**If you come down to London to testify against me, just know, despite my "history," I have not taken anything that was not mine, whatever evidence they may have.**

_ We will work to find more evidence supporting  _ _ our  _ _ case. _

**Your humble servant,**

**Robin**

_ Marian _

"We have half a plan?" Robin asked her. They were sitting at a secluded table on the main level of the inn they were staying at.

"I might," she said before taking a sip of the bitter wine she was drinking.

"What is it?"

She shook her head. The long plait down her back slithered like a snake. "I will not tell until it is a full plan. I do not want to share it until I think it might work. But I need to go out today."

"Without me?"

"Yes."

He scrubbed his hands over his face. "But what will you do?"

"Find some useful employment, hopefully," she said cryptically, but when he asked, she would not say anything further.

And so, Robin missed his first trial; he spent the day plotting and drinking in his new found haven. Around him, merchants, Londoners, cut-purses and various deviants ebbed, swirled, and flowed.

_ Escape _ his gut told him.  _ Grab Marian and high-tail it back to Nottingham. _

But his brain told him that was a terrible idea. The children were there, and he did not want Katherine and Geoff dragged into this mess. Robin did not want them to watch their father get arrested for thieving, even if Robin  _ was  _ innocent. He had seen the disturbing scenes of children watching their fathers being taken away. Even if Robin had to arrest someone on any of his estates, he tried to do so out of sight of the children. It was better that way.

Robin had no reason to believe King John would award him the same courtesy.

Marian startled him out of his thoughts when she returned.

"How is the plan?" he asked her.

"It is in preliminary stages."

Well, it was something.


	4. Trials and Tribulations II

Lord Much swore.

It was not something he often did, and it caused his scribe, Gilbert Whitehand, to look up in surprise. He knew why Lord Much was cursing, but it seemed so out of character. "My Lord?"

"Damn the man, Gilbert, how does he get himself into these scrapes?" He stood to pace, his long, formal Sheriff robes sweeping the ground.

"Perhaps it has to do with his insufferable charm?" He fiddled with the bottom of the parchment.

That made Lord Much laugh. "That is an apt way of putting it. Thank God that Marian is with him, to keep him from lasting harm. He would be nothing without her. Do you know where Allan is?"

"Last I heard, he was cleaning weapons with a few of his men in the armory."

Lord Much slid the letter towards him, sitting back down as if to study it, though he could not make out the letters. "Please go and find Allan and bring him here."

"Very well, Sheriff," Gilbert Whitehand said before quitting the room.

Lord Much's scribe was a simple man, rather like the Sheriff. A fair man. He had taken the orders of St Joseph as a young lad; he had liked their active role in society and their concern for the "dear neighbor." Whitehand had learned to read and write in Latin, French, and English, and when Lord Much had it advertised that he needed a scribe and a translator, Whitehand's old Abbot had asked if he wanted to go.

Whitehand had heard rumors about Nottingham, how dangerous and rough and sinful it was, but it had come under new management; that of Sheriff Much, and the Earl and Countess of Huntingdon. Gilbert had gotten used to their ways.

He was a young man, in his twenties, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. What with the cassock, everything about him was  _ brown _ , but it was the color of the earth in the ground, and Gilbert felt completely at home in the clothes. He was an inch shorter than Lord Much, and growing a little plump from so much reading and writing, but he was still comfortable in his new home.

The Sheriff, and the Earl and Countess, understood his passion of caring for the "dear neighbor."

Sir Allan was still in the armory when Gilbert looked.

"Lieutenant Dale," Gilbert said respectfully.

"I keep telling you, call me Allan," he reminded the scribe. Sir Allan was carefully cleaning a tunic of chain mail.

"Yes, of course, Sir Allan. My Lord Sheriff requires you in the Hall."

"Oh? What about."

"It would seem that the Earl of Huntingdon has gotten himself into a scrape."

"Of course he has. Carry on, men," he told the guards at work before following Gilbert back to the hall.

"How would you feel about a trip to London?" Lord Much offered when Gilbert returned with Sir Allan.

"Sounds expensive," Sir Allan said simply. He grinned at the prospect.

Lord Much sighed, "Yes, I shall pay for it. Robin had better pay me back."

"What do you need me to do?" Sir Allan asked.

Gilbert watched the scene unfold. Sir Allan never once looked surprised as Lord Much explained the situation to him. Gilbert knew a bit from their history, that Sir Allan had betrayed his friends, but Lady Marian had reached out to him, and Sir Allan had redeemed himself. If there was any bad blood between Sir Allan and Lord Much, it certainly did not show. While Sir Allan had asked for his expenses to be paid, Lord Much had likely decided to finance the trip anyway. Sir Allan-A-Dale was well paid, as was befitting his position.

"Do you know where Robin and Marian are staying?" Sir Allan asked.

Lord Much shrugged. "Likely somewhere in the City Proper, not in Westminster. But they did not say, in case the letter fell into the wrong hands."

"Yeah, well, London is a big city," Sir Allan started to complain.

"London is  _ two _ cities," Lord Much said forcefully. "Westminster and London. The King is not allowed in London without the Lord Mayor's permission.  _ London _ is only about a square mile."

"Oh," Sir Allan said, sounding almost sheepish that Lord Much knew something the worldly Sir Allan did not. (But Lord Much had trained as a knight in London alongside the Earl of Huntingdon). "Well, that  _ does _ narrow things down a bit, eh Much?"

"Indeed. When can you be ready to leave?"

"Within the hour," Sir Allan said briskly.

"Good. I will go get a purse for you."

And with that, Gilbert Whitehand watched the two men disappear to go about their respective tasks to get Sir Allan ready for the road.

* * *

The Christmas season was upon them, even at Winder's Way Inn. The normally noisy tavern was even louder than usual to mark the beginning of the next twelve days of revelry properly - a topsy turvey time by any definition.

And the epitome of this topsy-turvey time? Nobility disguised as commoners.

The two in question were huddled in the corner, drinking Christmas ale. There was no danger of being overheard; they could hardly hear each other speak as Marian outlined the plan she had been working on for the past few days.

"Marian, I cannot have you working in the kitchens!"

"Why ever not? I have only been reminded time and time again at this court how uncivilised I am. How dangerous, and near mad I am because I am from Nottinghamshire and married to you. I am not afraid of the work. And men have loose tongues in front of kitchen wenches. I can gather intelligence!"

"And if you are recognized?" Robin swirled the ale in its mug.

"I will not be. Rough servants are nigh invisible. Besides, I am no beautiful maid anymore - a blessing."

"That is a lie," he cupped her cheek across the table (the gesture  _ tame _ in comparison to what was going on in other areas of the tavern). "You are still beautiful. More so than any maid."

She blushed, but insisted, "Odysseus, let me be Penelope once more. Let me gather what I can from the domestics. I have done as such before."

He sighed, "Very well. I cannot stop you," he turned to his drink again.

"No," she agreed. "You cannot."

The following day, while most of their companions at the Winder's Way slept off hangovers, she decided her name to be Maudlin, and to be from the village of Gotham. Reprising a northern accent that Robin rarely heard her use, she went off, dodging and weaving through foot traffic, to the Tower.

And with that, Robin sat down to think even harder of a plan.

* * *

" _ But Sir Allan, why are  _ you  _ going to London, where my father and mother are? _ "  _ demanded Katherine, as Allan had been packing. _

'Because, Pet, your father cannot keep out of trouble,' _ Allan had wanted to reply honestly. Instead he had made her a promise.  _ " _ To buy you a seashell there. If you hold it up to your ear, you can hear the waves crashing on the beach. Have you ever been to the ocean? _ "

" _ No, but London is not near the ocean, _ "  _ Katherine had been quick to point out. _

" _ But I can buy one there for you, Pet. _ "

_ Katherine had looked skeptical. _

Allan tried not to chuckle at the memory on the road to London. He was a man not overly fond of children, but Robin and Marian were raising kids that were clever, too clever for their own good. Allan often enjoyed their company, particularly Katherine. With her red hair and brown eyes, she looked nothing like her parents (adopted, as she was), but she had her mother's intelligence and her father's curiosity. A dangerous combination.

Allan sometimes teased her, calling her a faerie child, a foundling, a changeling, on account of her red hair. She would reply tartly that if she were of the fey, she would have been exchanged for a human child, and Marian and Robin had had no human child to give. All the same, their nurse Hilde put bread in her charge's pockets, and Katherine never took hers out.

Geoffrey did, though. If Katherine was logical like her mother, Geoff could be as brash as his father. It was almost eerie. He looked more like Marian, though; the same nose and darker coloring, but even at eight, he made impassioned speeches that inspired others to action. The same mad glint in his blue eyes that his father had. The pair of them amused Allan-A-Dale to no end. He thought of their exploits on the way down to London, keeping his mind from the worries he would face there, determined not to borrow trouble from tomorrow.

* * *

Allan arrived in London, and immediately began his search for Robin. Once he entered the Tower for Much, it would be difficult, at best, to sneak out and meet Robin. Best to have a plan in place before going in, anyway. Not having much to go on (and knowing Robin was probably not using his real name), Allan drank his way up the embankment, visiting small inns, holes in the wall, places that were frequented by an altogether rougher crowd.

At a place called Winder's Way, Allan was sampling the house ale and munching some roast when a familiar figure settled next to him.

"Well met, Allan," Robin greeted quietly.

"Hello."

"What news from Nottingham?"

"Nothing new. Much will be down in time for Epiphany; he is trying not to draw too much attention to himself or to your troubles. So he sent me ahead."

"The children?"

"Ignorant. Katherine is suspicious, though."

"Naturally."

"Where is Marian?"

"In the Tower."

"I thought she came with you?"

"She is back, in disguise. A kitchen maid called Maudlin from Gotham."

"Has she discovered anything?"

There was no risk of being overheard. Winders Way was as noisy as ever. Still, Robin glanced around before sharing, "Lady Agnes, the woman who accused me of stealing her pearls, the woman who spread rumors about me stealing other precious items, is one of King John's mistresses. This is well known. But the servants were quick to warn Marian that Lady Agnes often reported servants' transgressions to John. It is clear to us now that Agnes is  _ his _ spy. We think the King and his mistress are setting us up for a fall. My second trial was to be today," Robin added, taking a drink of Allan's ale.

"One left and you will be an outlaw again," Allan noted.

"I know."

"What do you need me to do?"

"I would like you to see if you can assist Marian in the Tower. I have been waiting for word from Much to enact my plan. Lady Agnes has a friend in a monk, Friar Hann. I plan on disguising myself and visiting their Order at Westminster Abbey. To see if I can get to the bottom of that friendship, if he is keeping her secrets."

"No time like the present," Allan said, downing the rest of his ale. He winked at the goodwife as he tossed her a coin to pay for his meal. "I shall go to the Tower, and you shall go to the Abbey."

"Who is the leader here?" Robin asked.

Allan knew Robin was joking, judging by the gleam in his eyes that lit up when there was mischief. Allan knew Robin should not be enjoying, but he could not help it. Nor could Allan - Robin of Locksley usually equaled trouble. "Much put me in charge," Allan winked again. "See you in Church."

Allan pulled up his hood and left; Robin went upstairs to put on the pilgrim's costume he had spent the last week pulling together.

* * *

Marian had worked in kitchens before. She knew how to cook her own meals, to cook for a gang of ravenous outlaws, and she knew how nobility ordered menus, even for Kingly feasts.

Never had she worked as a scullery maid in one.

The work was difficult and the company was poor. Only Rohese was kind to her, and only Rohese knew her secret. From the moment "Maudlin" arrived, Rohese had recognized the Countess of Locksley. She thankfully held her tongue, and cornered her later, when they could be sure not to be overheard. So Rohese knew why Maudlin could not drop her fine manners for rough ones. The rest of the staff in the kitchens attributed her oddities to her being from Gotham. 'Mad Maudlin' was Marian's nickname.

She wished people would stop giving her nicknames; first the Nightwatchman, now this? Still, they talked to her, and Marian had gleaned a few things. Nothing particularly useful, but a few things...

And when Allan arrived as Sheriff Much's envoy; it was like the old gang, back together again. He spied and reported to her. And flirted with her openly, in a way he had not done in ages. Marian knew their flirting was harmless, and anyway, gave them some modicum of cover - he had a reason to visit a kitchen maid because he was hoping to bed her.

One fateful day, Allan passed her a packet of letters. She tucked them into her bodice to read later (Allan could not read, he could barely sign his name).

After dinner, during the washing up, Marian tucked herself away to read them. They were very enlightening.

_ R. John, to the fair and most accommodating Lady Agnes, _

_ May God bless and keep you even as you read this - _

_ I fear that you will take this the wrong way, but your Queen Isabella would wish you to no longer be seated at Our table. _

_ However this may hurt you, you actually may do me a favor, dearest one. One Earl Robert of Huntingdon will be arriving soon with his wife, and I am having Sir David seat them at your table. Earl Robin, you may well remember him as Robin Hood, is an enemy of mine. _

_ Please, if you can find it in your heart, for me, do as much to discredit them as much as possible. If I must arrest him for rape, or treason, I will, to protect you, my happiness. _

_ Your King and Lord, _

_ John _

There was another one.

_ R. John to the clever and obedient Lady Agnes, _

_ My darling, thieves, in the Tower? What an excellent plan, my dove. Everyone will believe that "Robin Hood" has regressed to his old ways. _

_ You shall receive your reward tonight, Agnes. I shall put nothing more in writing. _

_ Your King and Lord, _

_ John _

This was evidence if Marian had ever seen it.

"Thank you, Allan," she whispered, tucking the letters into her shift.


	5. Trials and Tribulations III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section is dedicated to Dr. Richard Mortimer, though you will never read it. Thanks for buzzing me up!

Robin had been carefully collecting his disguise for his next plan; old, worn boots, poorly dyed cloak, some old trousers held up with a string... and most importantly, a small shell, the mark of a pilgrim. He paid the goodwife at Winder's Way and set out, leaning heavily on a gnarled walking stick as he went. Dirty, tired, and frankly, heart-sore, he looked the part of the pilgrim without trying too hard.

It started to rain - what luck.

Robin wandered around for hours, getting even more dirty, more tired, and very hungry.

Finally, at dusk, he came to the door at Westminster Abbey and rapped his walking stick against the door. When no one answered, he did it again. And again.

He raised his stick to knock a fourth time when the door opened.

"Yes?" asked the brother who opened the door.

"Please, good brother," Robin said in a very low rumble, and the thickest northern accent he could muster. "Please, might I stay for a night or two? I was supposed to meet my fellow travelers at St Paul's today, but they've not yet arrived. I cannot think what delayed them. 'Twould not be for long, Sir, only, they could not keep me there this night."

"What is your name? Where are you bound, Pilgrim?"

"Most call me Tom, sir, and I am bound for the Holy Land, Sir, I have not yet been there, as a good and able Christian ought to do."

"Are you a good Christian, then?"

"I do try, Sir."

"Very well, come in, and you shall have to speak to the Abbot."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Robin limped in and the brother shut the heavy door behind him.

He led Robin into a covered passageway that surrounded a courtyard of grass (green grass, even in January).

Robin looked around him in awe, pretending never to have seen such splendor. "Aye, but you are a lucky soul, Sir, to live in the house of God!"

"Indeed," the monk agreed.

"You must have so many treasures in here," Robin went on.

"Oh yes," said the monk, bragging a bit to his simpleton of an admirer. "We are one of the most secure places in London. Even the King sends things from the Tower to be kept in safety, in this room, actually." He pointed to a door on their left. "It is called the Pyx Chamber. Full of strongboxes. The next door on the right here, that is the dormitory where we sleep. So you see, these treasures are well guarded."

"Oh, aye. Not that anyone would be thievin' in the house of the Lord."

"Right you are, Tom. Come, wait in here, the Abbot's chamber. He will be with you shortly. Sit down on that bench and rest yourself."

"Thank you kindly," Robin groaned as he sat down.

It was not long until the Abbot came in. As Robin put the first monk at ease (Brother John), so too did Abbot Michael fall to Robin's country charms. After a brief interview, the Abbot said, "Come with me."

Robin creaked to his feet and leaned heavily on his stick as he followed the abbot out, into the corridor, and ultimately, up the stairs into the loft area where the monks slept.

"There is a bed for you, all the way at the end," the Abbott pointed. "We do not often allow pilgrims to sleep in our quarters, but you are going to the Holy Land, so we must offer what little comfort we can."

"Thank you, Sir," Robin said humbly. "I had heard it tell the Benedictines were good to their neighbors."

"But of course," the abbot said. "If you need anything, please ask."

Robin hobbled down to the end and collapsed on his bed.

"Hullo," he said quietly to the monk who would be sleeping next to him. It was Friar Hann.

Hann nodded, but did not say anything. He did not look as if he even cared that Robin was there, or why, and there was no spark of recognition.

_ Well, _ thought Robin.  _ All the better for me that he does not know he will be lying with the enemy. _

Candles were soon snuffed out and everyone drifted off to sleep.

Apart from Robin. It was difficult to keep awake, but there were more important matters.

After two hours, by the bells (Robin was counting very carefully) he got up and hobbled over to Brother John, who had opened so many doors for him.

"Yes Tom?" he murmured.

"Where is the privy?" Robin asked urgently.

Brother John gave Robin very complicated directions. It would evidently take some time for a gimpy old man like him to reach them. So much the better.

Robin clattered down the stairs and down the corridor, until he was out of earshot. He then stealthily made his way back to the Pyx Chamber, where the King left valuables too delicate for the Tower.

He tried the door, but naturally it was locked.

Robin reached up the back of his shirt to a band that was wrapped around his waist, which had the dual purpose of giving him a bit wider of a belly, and hid a certain hairpin. It was small, narrow, and deadly sharp, encrusted with jewels. An unlikely thing for a pilgrim to be carrying, but not so for a lady who had fled the Tower.

Robin quickly picked the lock (some skills never went away).

He made his way in and fumbled in the dark for a candle and a flint to light it before shutting the door.

The thick taper revealed a large room with giant chests, probably filled to the brim with riches. Carefully, Robin passed all these chests, looking for one that did not have a coat of dust. Tucked in the corner, out of sight, was a smaller trunk, with no dust on it.

This too was locked, but thanks to a Marian's hairpin and a little patience, Robin soon had it open. On top lay a perfect pearl necklace.

And under that, all the riches that Robin had been accused of stealing.

Carefully, Robin closed the lid, replaced the lock, and made his way out of the chamber (which locked behind him), and back up to the dormitory to a deep sleep.

* * *

Robin did not linger much longer at Westminster; he had found the goods and made friends with the monks. And anyway, it was nearly time for the third trial. If he did not appear at this one, he would be outlawed (again). He could not let that happen, and he could not be hanged over a crime he did not commit.

Marian had Sunday afternoons off, and she did not have to go far to find Robin. He was waiting for her, in his disguise, outside the main gate of the Tower.

"A penny, miss? Such a fine lady like yourself might have a penny for an old wretch."

"A lady? Do not give me away now, old man."

He winked and followed her into the nearby fish stalls.

"What have you learned?" Marian asked.

"I know where the goods are hidden. Tomorrow I will be at my trial, in disguise, and convince everyone that I am a pilgrim, recently at Westminster, and that I have seen these goods that they are describing. When we go to Westminster, I will reveal myself as Robin of Locksley."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Give us a kiss?" he teased.

"Do not be impertinent," she teased. "I will try and get the servants to back you up, and tell Allan to find some allies for us among the nobles. Oh, and Much. Much is here; he arrived yesterday. I have not yet seen him."

"Perfect. It sounds like a plan."

With that, Marian did kiss him.

He groaned. "Might we find a room somewhere? Only it has been..."

"Too long," Marian agreed.  _ Who knew what the morrow would bring? _

They found a small, clean, private room at an inn along the river until Marian had to go back to the Tower.

Robin talked his way in, too, still claiming to be a pilgrim, and slept on the rushes in the great hall.

* * *

Monday morning, Epiphany, dawned bright and cold. Robin was up before the sun as members of the court began to filter in.

People nodded to him, used to seeing pilgrims, especially around holy days. He nodded back, but made himself as unobtrusive as possible. Much winked at him, Robin smiled back. Robin went to Mass, following the nobles at a respectful distance. No need for him to get ideas about his station.

Mass was three hours long, it being a holy day, and Robin stood throughout the entire service. He was not really pretending to limp back to the Hall for the feast. Marian served some food to him on the floor. As she went back to the kitchens, King John stood. The audience hushed.

"I thought today might be the trial of the Earl of Locksley," he began. "But he dares not show his face."

Robin thought he heard muttering, dissent, amongst the court.

"I dare say that the Earl of Locksley is a coward, who likes to be outlawed, so he may carry one with is common thieving."

Robin stood, dropping his walking stick with a clatter. Heads turned. He knew Marian would be rolling her eyes, but Robin would not take those words from John Lackland, John the coward. Calmly, Robin peeled off his cloak, his outer clothes, he wiped some of the grime from his face and removed a bit of linen from his mouth that puffed his lower lip out.

"I am no coward," Robin said.

"Then why did you know show your face at trial?"

"Because I would lose at trial," said Robin.

"Does that not still prove you are not brave enough?"

"Bravery and recklessness are two very different things. I am trying to teach my young son this. I have not been idle, I have been gathering evidence for myself," Robin said, very calmly. The hall was silent; Robin's voice carried easily to the rafters. "You should instruct your mistresses to burn their love letters," he suggested, pulling the missives from his pockets. "And I have recently been to Westminster Abbey, where you, or rather your allies, have hidden the goods that I was accused of stealing."

"Prove it," said King John.

"Let us go to Westminster and see if he speaks the truth," Allan suggested near the wall.

"Hear hear!" Robin heard Much shout, a little pompously.

Robin smiled as mutterings went around the room, as the mutterings turned into demands to go to Westminster.

"ENOUGH!" John roared. The hall fell silent again.

"Very well," John said. "We shall go to Westminster." He called six men to accompany them, including Much. Allan slid in behind Much. Marian slipped behind Allan. King John did not notice or care. Robin did notice, as he drew closer, that there was moisture beading on the King's brow.

Horses were prepared, and they rode to Westminster. The day itself was clear and cold, with the promise of snowfall sharp in the air. The retinue made its way through the celebrating masses. All of London, it seemed, was out in the streets. The entire Benedictine community was in prayer, it being a Holy Day, but King John interrupted them. What did he care for a life of devotion and faith? He just wanted this to be over with. If that meant cutting off a few monks, John did not care.

"What can I do for you, your grace?" Abbot Michael asked, containing his fury for being barged in upon.

"This man here says that he has been in the Pyx Chamber and has discovered some treasures that have gone missing from the Tower."

"That is impossible," said Michael. "You know how secure we are. And I have never seen this man in my life!"

"Do not be so sure, Sir," Robin said, masking his voice again.

Recognition sparked in the abbot's eyes. "Tom?"

Robin bowed. "It is Robin, actually. I am sorry to have lied to you, but you see, it was necessary."

"We shall see," said Brother Michael.

He led the way to the Pyx Chamber, and Robin took over from there. He nearly marched John over to the chest and made him open it.

After a few moments of silence, when those around waited with baited breath, John turned and announced, "It is as he says. Robin, this monk claims to have never seen you. I will take him at his word that you have not hidden the goods here. It could not have profited you, of course."

"Thank you, Sire, for allowing me to clear my name," Robin said.

He could hear Much sigh with relief.

"Back to the Tower, I think," John said, as powerfully as he could.

"It must have been difficult, my Lord," Marian said quietly, daring to sidle up to him.

"What must have been difficult?" King John asked impatiently, clearly annoyed with a kitchen girl/Countess.

"To side against your lover, but with the rest of the Court."

John had no reply, and after a moment, Marian held back, and linked arms with her husband.

"Can we go home now?" he asked her.

"Yes," she replied, gratefully. "What shall we tell the children?"

Robin shrugged. "We can exaggerate the tale and make it sound more glamorous than it was. Then they will think we are lying."

Marian laughed.

"It must be said, Robin of Locksley. Life with you is never dull."

"Should I take that as a compliment?"

She kissed him.


End file.
